


Chocolate Cake and Confessions

by carrietastic



Category: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)
Genre: Gen, Midge is Having a Cheat Day, Midge/Joel mentioned, My First Fanfic, Post-Finale, Stage Door Deli, chance encounter, huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 15:04:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrietastic/pseuds/carrietastic
Summary: Midge likes chocolate cake. Lenny likes Midge.





	Chocolate Cake and Confessions

 

    Midge sat at a booth at the Stage Door Deli. Nights like these she was grateful for her low comedic status; she wasn’t tied to nightly gigs. Tonight, though, she decided to treat herself a decadent slice of chocolate cake. Her 25” waistline could use a night off, too.

    As she scraped the frosting-encrusted bottom of her plate, she heard an impressed whistle behind her. 

    “You eat like my mother—no scrap left behind.”

    Midge turned her head to see Lenny with his signature eyebrow cocked, amused to see that she was eating, even more so: chocolate cake. 

    Shit, she thought to herself. Caught in the act. What now? Does she ask him to sit down like a normal person? Stand up and shake his hand? No! Why the heck would she do that? Maybe she could just put the cake on her tab and leave. Nah, he clearly expects a conversation. Does she thank him for his help at the Gaslight, like the dignified lady her mother wants her to be? Nope. Bad idea. Midge would probably end up promising him her eternal gratitude and swear to make it up for him somehow; he’ll never let her live that down—

    “Don’t worry, you don’t owe me,” he said, finally breaking up the glacier between them that probably sank the Titanic. “For the other night, I mean.” 

    She continued to stare at him, shocked and confused that he magically read her mind. By the time she could form a cordial offer to sit, Lenny was already situated with a fresh mug of coffee.

    “It was a good set too, Mrs. Maisel,” he continued with a wink. “Good, but very risky. At least you were dressed for a funeral.” 

    “Amanda Gleason’s actually. Beheaded by Harry Drake. They put her head on a plate, can you believe that?”

    “All of the Christians in the joint clearly thought you had resurrected like Christ. Imagine that on a marquee: ‘The Messiah Mrs. Maisel!’” 

    Midge smiled. “I’ll have to work my way towards that, y’know? Besides my mother would balk. She’s only just recently come to terms with the fact that I’m working,” she added with a fake shudder.

    “Eh. What’s gonna happen will happen,” Lenny assured her. Midge had expected him to have pulled out a cigarette by now. He hadn’t, instead just taking a long sip of coffee.

    “Can I just ask you something?” she started. “Why did you come to the Gaslight? Why did you help me?”

    He hesitated to answer the loaded question,not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he didn’t know how to say it. Lenny wanted to tell her the truth: that he was attracted to her wit and harm and he couldn’t let that go to waste. Clearly, he couldn’t say that outright. After all, they both were is murky relationships and their friendship had yet to reach the level of gravity necessary to warrant such a discussion. Fuck, now he was thinking like Miss Upper West Side.

    After what felt like nearly nine months, the pregnant pause finally broke.

    “Midge, everyone told me that you dazzled the stage. Susie said so, your rep sheet surely says so, even those shitty Lennon articles say so. At that jazz club, I knew you were something. Maybe not the best thing since sliced bread, but up there. I couldn’t let Harry-fucking-Drake get in the way of that.”

    Lenny paused for another sip of coffee.He then leaned closer in towards her, as if he was about to reveal the secrets of the universe.

    “I now get why it’s called the Gaslight. People like you are fuel lighting the whole place up. Scratch that — Midge, you’re fucking electricity.” 

    Midge stared at him like a deer in headlights.

    She obviously wasn’t afraid of Lenny, rather the idea of following up a statement like that. Is he high, she asked herself. People don’t say stuff like that in casual conversation. ‘Oh hey Margie, did I ever tell you that you are ridiculously talented and also I’m in love with you?” Well, maybe not love, but there was something there. Maybe she could respond like Bryn Mawr Midge, toeing the line between subtle and sultry. Couldn't this just be Lenny’s twisted way to get into her pants? No, he’s better than that; a good man. She briefly considered making some strange crack, but that that would just be her twisted way of rejecting him, which she had no intentions of doing. Here’s a thought! She would just do what her mother would: graciously accept his praise and bolt! Let’s see if her calisthenics class actually did something.

    Pull it together Miriam! If you don’t answer soon, he’ll start talking, backtracking on what he told her, or, worse of all, just walk out. She finally landed on an earnest: “Thank you.”

    She looked into his eyes and found his hand in hers.

    “I mean it, really. Thank you. If you hadn’t stepped in, I would be back to talking at parties and praying to God that nobody recognizes me and sues. I think I would be listening to one of Joel’s sets, knowing that I had a shot at getting on that stage and I blew it. At least he’ll be writing his own material, right? Who am I kidding, he’ll probably be on that stage trying to pass off “To Is A Preposition” as his own…”

    Midge kept gushing about her life the way a broken faucet does; Lenny didn’t plan to stop her. If this was one of those bullshit roadshow romances flicks, he could kiss her, shutting her up and sealing their fates together for a brief few moments. However, he didn’t. She clearly has this pent-up energy inside that she needs to Let go of, he told himself. Plus, he didn’t mind being Midge’s metaphorical shoulder to cry on. Nonetheless, she needed to say something and organize her thoughts. It’s part of the comedic process. He did it too. Of course, his mind usually moved much slower than Midge’s, something about lethargy and prescription medication.  

    When Lenny finally ran out of thoughts, he realized the time: 11:53. 

    “Shit. I gotta run,” he said as he hurriedly slipped a ten on the table. He hated to break up any conversation involving Midge Maisel. “Meeting a friend.” He winked.

    Midge knew that time was up for the both of them. He had places to be and she had a cake to finish.

    “Good to see you,” she said. “Be safe.”

    “Will do,” he said, standing up and finally pulling out a cigarette. He lit it and prepared to leave. “By the way,” he drawled, “you have frosting on your cheek.”

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I’ve ever published. *exciting!* There isn’t much Lenny/Midge fanstuff, so I want to throw my hat into the ring. I wonder what their ship name would be? Ledgy? Menny? BailBuddies? Anyways, I would love to hear your thoughts? Byeeeee.


End file.
